


Thunder Only Happens When It's Raining

by poprocks



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Danger, F/M, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, i'm an asshole and i like leaving ambiguous painful shit to flap in the wind, maybe i'll add a second part or maybe i'll just leave it here, peter flipping out when gamora gets hurt is my bread and butter tbh, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-14 03:34:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11774646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poprocks/pseuds/poprocks
Summary: When things go to shit for the Guardians, they really go to shit.





	Thunder Only Happens When It's Raining

**Author's Note:**

> a prompt fill for @kitandkanoodle — _starmora - “You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.”_
> 
> this can also sort of double for starmora week, day 5 (hurt/comfort – just without the comfort). :))))
> 
> i posted this on tumblr last week, but i figured i'd drop it here too because w h y n o t.

This is bad.

No, that’s an understatement, because this is a fucking  _disaster_.

When things go to shit for the Guardians, they  _really_  go to shit, and a simple job suddenly turns into an ambush. The ambush turns into a retreat. The retreat turns into a damned scramble for a place to hide and regroup.

They make it to a cave carved into the slick, rainy rockface of the cliff they’d been chased across, and Gamora ushers Peter inside to get them out of the line of sight of their enemies. The blaster fire died off minutes ago, but she already assured Peter she can still  _hear_  them in pursuit, and that means they  _aren’t_  safe.

“Move,  _move_ ,” she hisses as they rush deeper into the cave. Now, Peter can hear the Kree overhead, pounding footfalls through the layers of rock. He can’t help the way he holds his breath, like that might divert them, and Gamora only stops when the Kree do. One of her hands curls around Peter’s upper arm, the other holding the hilt of Godslayer tight. Peter has his blasters at the ready, repeatedly glancing over his shoulder towards the darkened speck of an entrance.

And then the plasma shots start all over again – but instead of coming from the cave’s entrance, the blasts hammer the ceiling above them. Peter and Gamora both nearly jump out of their skins with the sudden thunderous sound filling the cave, and Peter grits his teeth, ready to bolt or—

Fuck, can they get through? Shit, no, the rock’s too thick – Peter knows that much.

But it quickly becomes clear that getting  _through_  isn’t going to matter when the stone overhead starts to shake.

And rumble.

And  _fall_.

A rock breaks off above their heads, dropping heavily directly to their left.

“Fuck!” Peter holsters his blasters, and immediately, he and Gamora are tearing towards the entrance. They both seemed to recognize at the same instant that they either had to get  _out_  or find themselves buried in that goddamn cave, and when the plasma shots keep coming, the rocks just keep falling.

_Fuck, fuck, **fuck**._

Another heavy boulder smashes to pieces directly in front of them, a second following, and then—

Before Peter even realizes what’s happening, Gamora is slamming her palms into his chest and half-shoving, half-tossing him clear as a third boulder falls—

—and lands right on Gamora’s head.

Peter hits his back gracelessly, most of the impact saved by his mask protecting the curve of his skull. Dazed as he is, he lifts his head for a desperate scan of the cave, picking out what he can with the infrared filters, trying to figure out where he ended up.

“ _Gamora!_ ”

His voice comes out on a hoarse croak, terror making his chest tighten as he tries to scramble to his feet, to stumble towards where she’d  _just_  been standing.

In a heap on the ground, Gamora lies crumpled, a hand cradling the back of her head. The boulder that hit her apparently broke on impact, smashed off to the side, and finally ( _fucking finally_ ), the blasts above them have completely stopped.

Where the entrance used to be, Peter can only see a pile of stone.

But, fuck, that doesn’t matter, and he drops immediately to his knees beside Gamora. In the stillness of the cave, he can hear and see the shuddering rise and fall of her shoulders, and— okay, okay, that means she’s alive. Good, because that would have killed any other fucking person, but Gamora is built to hold up to a hell of a lot – apparently including a giant concussion.

“Hey.” Peter’s voice still breaks as he reaches out to carefully pull Gamora’s hand from her head, and with the filters on his mask, he can see the dark smear on her fingers. Fuck, that’s a lot of blood. “Hey, Gamora, let’s sit up, huh?”

Gamora makes a nondescript noise, but he sees movement as she tries to get her other arm underneath her, to push herself up. Her elbows wobble, and then give out, but Peter’s arms are under her before she can completely collapse again.

“Whoa, I got you, it’s— hey, you’re good, c’mon.” He struggles to find a lightness in his voice that he doesn’t feel, but he helps Gamora sit up onto her knees, supporting her upper body almost entirely as he steadies her. “There, see— c’mon, open your eyes for me, okay?”

“Peter…?”

She winces as she tries to speak. Her eyes are heavily-lidded, barely fluttering open as she tries to focus on the glowing red of his mask.

“Yeah, I’m right here. See? I’m here, you’re okay.” Peter reaches out to cup her face, thumb brushing over her cheek. He helps her keep her head up, even as her chin tries to dip towards her chest. “No, no, no, I need you to look right at me, okay?”

But her eyes are sliding closed.

“Gamora.  _Gamora_.”

Whatever strength she managed to keep herself semi-upright seems to fail her, because Peter is suddenly left with the weight of Gamora fully in his arms. He swears under his breath, and fuck, he feels like he can barely  _breathe_ , can barely hear over the rush of his own frantic heart hammering in his ears, and no, no, she’s going to be fine. She just needs to hold out for her mods, just has to make it until her body can do something about the fucking head trauma, and— she can fix this. She’ll be fine. She can make it, but—

“Gamora.” The sound of her name is roughened by panic trying to claw into his chest, but he’s  _trying_  to be steady for her. He reaches up to quickly hit the trigger for his mask behind his ear, and with a flash of blue light, the metal recedes, taking the unearthly red glow with it. “Gamora, come on. You need—“

_Deep breath. God, Quill, fucking pull it together._

“You need to wake up, okay? I— Gamora, you need to wake up, because I can’t do this without you.”


End file.
